


Back to the roots

by FeelingsDusk



Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magical!Liam Dunbar, Magical!Malia Tate, Magical!Stiles Stilinski, alpha!peter hale, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6306781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingsDusk/pseuds/FeelingsDusk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(For the Magical AU square)</p><p>Stiles can’t decide which city he hates more, Colima, where his father lost his life in the line of duty, or Beacon Hills, where his mother lost her mind to frontotemporal dementia.</p><p>Either way he swore he would never set a foot back on either of them, but the Assembly doesn’t give a damn about personal oaths, it seems, because he gets sent there when the Nemeton is found to be in danger.</p><p>He’s not very impresed with Alpha Hale’s management of the territory.</p><p>Peter Hale isn't very impresed with him either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to the roots

**Author's Note:**

> **For my Magical AU square in the Teen Wolf Bingo Card. Part of this I blame on cywscross, because ever since I read[this](http://cywscross.tumblr.com/post/123577076160/yesyesyes-that-exactly-3-extra-points-for-a) and [this](http://cywscross.tumblr.com/post/123583159570/bxdcubes-replied-to-your-post-yesyesyes-that), I’ve been craving a SortOfBigBro!Stiles & Liam. **

Stiles can’t decide which city he hates more, Colima, where his father lost his life in the line of duty, or Beacon Hills, where his mother lost her mind to frontotemporal dementia.

He’s never set a foot back in the first ever since his mother made him pack the day after they buried his dad, almost sixteen years ago. As for the second, Stiles had hoped to never have to revisit it in this life after his mother, not even a year after leaving Colima, started to deteriorate and tried to kill him time and again, with no one noticing.

Until now. 

He picks at the fourth ring with a sigh.

“ _How are you doing?_ ”

“Peachy keen,” he answers sarcastically, phone held to his ear by his shoulder. “Why does it have to be me again?” 

“ _Because Demetria was sent to Quebec and you are the only remaining one in our unit that knows even remotely how to purify a Nemeton? Or vaguely knows the area?_ “

“First, I’m not the only one, Demetria taught Liam too; and second, I haven’t been to Beacon Hills since I was twelve,” he recalls himself fleeing in the middle of the night, terrified out of his mind and with nothing else but the clothes on his back before Demetria found him, and shudders, “so that’s not a valid argument.”

“ _You can’t be serious! If rumors are true, that Alpha Hale would eat the poor kid alive._ ” Stiles snorts, remembering said rumors about a so-called alpha pack meeting its sorry end. 

“So you’re worried about Liam but not about me? I’m hurt, really.” He smirks at the snort at the other end of the line.

_“Stiles, I would give anything to be a fly in the wall when he meets you, you brat. Try not traumatizing the man, would you? The Assembly and the Tribunal are still giving us shit about what you did to that alpha in Ontario. Do you realize how difficult is for those geezers to agree with each other on something? I’m sure someone made a monument to honor the occasion somewhere.“_

“Man, humiliate one measly dick alpha and carry the stigma forever,” he faux whines.

“ _One alpha or eight, you mean.“_

“Semantics. Still not going anyway. Sooner or later, Liam’s gonna have to learn to stand his ground against assholes. He’s old enough.”

“ _He’s just fourteen and a cinnamon roll to boot. Setting an evil vampire coven on fire at thirteen is not the norm, you precocious little shit._ ” 

“Still not going,” he says petulantly, just to be difficult.

“ _The Assembly asked for you specifically.”_

“They can shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“ _Demetria asked for you too._ ” 

He groans. “Yeah, yeah, stop nagging, okay? I’m already in a motel just outside Sacramento,” he grumbles. He ignores the laughter on the other end of the line and hangs up.

—

Ever since he started following Demetria around when he was thirteen (and he’s twenty-five now), Stiles’ noticed that if they warn in advance when they’re going to investigate a territory, people tend to try and cover other things, which causes problems in the long run. Which is the reason why Stiles likes to do like health care inspectors and just present himself on the area and look around before talking to the alpha. 

That and he honestly gets his kicks out of being difficult.

He’s crossing the preserve at a brisk pace, a directioning rune glowing like a compass on the palm of his hand, pointing at the location of the Nemeton, when he hears a groan.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Not again!”

Stiles stops abruptly, looks heavenward for patience and seriously contemplates the possibility of just leaving. He hears the distinct sounds of someone tripping and sighs long-suffering. Demetria would kill him. To death. He turns, following the racket to a deep hole and peeks inside crouching. 

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” he says dryly and his lips twitch when the boy startles and falls to his butt.

“Oh, cool, found you!“ the kid chirps excitedly, getting up and bouncing in place with his face covered in dirt. Stiles arches a brow, unimpressed.

“What are you doing here, Liam?” 

“I felt into a hole!” he explains with a big smile and Stiles sighs rubbing his face. This is seriously karmic payback for all the times he followed Demetria around the glove without her consent. When he told the kid the stories, he was expecting him to want to copy his actions, sure, but with _her_ , dammit. Liam, of all things, extends his arms hopefully like a five year old toddler.

“Use the adhesive rune.” Might as well teach him something then. If Liam’s going to keep this trend of his of falling into holes, he'd better learn how to get out of them too. Stiles guides him through the placement of the rune on his hands and the sole of his sneakers and instructs him on how to activate it. “Keep the flow steady, there. Don’t” he catches him before he slips and pulls him out completely, “push too much or you will burn them, runt.” 

“That was so cool!”

He’d better call Demetria before she pops a vessel. As expected, she laughs at his predicament and tells him to take care of him, or else. As if there was any other option, Stiles grumbles, and he pulls at the kid before he falls into the same hole again.

—

They find the Nemeton easily after that and Stiles wants to cringe so badly. It’s wailing in pain, calling for help desperately. He stops Liam before he can run to the stump. Because it’s a damned stump and not the tree it should be. And it’s rotting to boot.

He’s gonna tear Alan Deaton a new one. He’s never liked the cryptic fucker but he thought he was a decent druid. This is inexcusable, he should have contacted the Assembly a long time ago.

Their eyes are starting to water at the stench the darach’s magics left everywhere. He takes out a handkerchief and soaks it in a special solution before making Liam press it to his face, covering his mouth and nose. The kid’s eyes are actually watering and he messes his hair comfortingly. 

Stiles narrows his eyes as he notices a second scream almost silenced by the force of the ones from the Nemeton. The tree, if it can be called that, is leeching from something buried underground. He instructs Liam to remain where he stands and approaches the stump. He can feel it trying to take from him the nearer he comes and he ruthlessly stops it. When he finds the source from the second scream he blanches.

Fuck. More to pile onto Deaton’s plate. He’s going to have his metaphorical badge.

His first intention was to just test the waters before going to find the alpha, but he needs to have a change of plans. This is horrible. The Nemeton has held on as much as it could, in part thanks to the energy it’s leeching from the nogitsune buried under it, but it’s at its limits. It has consumed the poor trapped nogitsune to almost death and if he doesn’t purify and set an array of runes to help it heal itself, it’s going to look for other sources of sustenance and level the entire town. He doesn’t even know if he can save either of them at this point.

He braces himself and prepares for the gargantuan project ahead of him.

“Stiles?” Liam voice is quivering. He’s starting to shiver and Stiles frowns.

“Don’t let it pull from you, Liam. At this point your magic doesn’t do it any good because it rots the moment it makes contact.” The kid nods shakily and Stiles takes off his jacket, throwing it to him. “Can you do it yourself or do you want me to place a rune on you?”

“I can,” he answers squaring his shoulders with an obstinate expression.

“You sure?” He arches a brow, challenging. Liam puts the jacket on and Stiles’ lip twitch at the image. “I don’t want a repeat performance from Chicago, runt.”

“That was a slip-up!” Liam protests spluttering behind the handkerchief.

“Slip-up? A dozen calls to the police about a dancing naked kid with a fake pink horn cello tapped to his forehead, who proclaimed, _singing_ , to be a unicorn. _A dozen_. All because you irritated an entire coven. You don’t do that. Ever.“

“Stileeeees,” Liam whines, beet red. “You promised to never bring that up again!” He doesn’t need to see his whole face to know he’s pouting. “Besides, you piss off people all the time.”

“Yeah, and I also set them on fire if they try to mess with me.” His voice is dry as the desert. “That give and take is like aged wine, an art perfected over the years.” He waves his hand whimsically.

“I can do this.” Some color has returned to his cheeks and Stiles nods. 

He starts with a cleansing ritual to get rid of the darach’s magic. While that works, he dedicates to separate the tendrils attached to the nogitsune. It takes him almost as much time as the cleansing but he finally calls success after an hour. He inspects the jar and the trapped being inside. It’s mad with pain, jagged wounds opened almost on every inch, but raging against the crystal anyway. The kind thing would be a mercy killing, but Stiles has always had a thing for survivors, so he sets to work to save it instead. 

He places an initial soothing rune on the jar and leaves it to take effect. While he waits for that, he starts preparing the Nemeton’s reconstitution arrays, a mixture of different healing, regenerating and growth enhancing runes. He also prepares seven little bags filled to the brim with ritual herbs and buries them on focal points around the stump. It’s incredibly complicated and one minute mistake could make the town go boom. He will probably have to repeat it along the lines of fifteen to twenty times over the course of a week. At least. 

Goodie.

He returns his attention to the jar, where the nogitsune has finally calmed down. He inspects the damage. How much time has this been going on? Nogitsune are incredibly powerful beings, to reduce one to this state… This wasn’t done by a druid or a mage, of that he’s sure. Any magical worth their salt knows about their importance to the balance. He shakes his head and gets to work drawing more runes on the jar.

It’s going to be a long day.

—

Stiles shakes a sleepy Liam awake and, then, exasperated, he takes his hand to pull him to follow. The nogitsune is curled around his neck, also asleep and still feeding from the runes connected to Stiles, his cold nose pressed to his neck. Stiles’ magics are chaotic at best, so he’s not surprised Ikari (his name) finds him soothing. Liam gapes at the fluffy black fox and then at the glowing array connected to the Nemeton. He doesn’t even recall when he finally slipped into slumber. 

“Come on, I need to crash for a couple of hours at least.” Right now Stiles is feeling cranky as hell and not at all up to traipsing through a forest in the dark, but he wants a bed, so god help the idiot that tries to keep him from it.

Of course, ask and ye shall have.

They’ve almost left the preserve and are near to where he left his jeep, when two teenagers that scream of werewolf (seriously, what’s the deal with werewolves and leather?) intercept them and then, of all things, one of them tries to intimidate him. 

In retrospective, laughing at him to his face is not the better course of action to avoid conflict but Stiles doesn’t give a damn. Liam, for his part, is bristling like an offended cat and looking like he’s a second away from jumping to the other teen’s throat. He grabs the collar of his jacket and pulls him back. After putting the kid behind him, he turns to the jackass and slaps (literally) a rune on his cheek. He blinks shocked for a second, like he can’t believe he did that.

One.

Two.

And three seconds.

And then the rune takes effect, catching the teen mid-curse. The other teenager, a curly blond one, gapes incredulously at his companion. He arches a brow and, with a yelp, he goes after his packmate when he takes off running.

Ikari is trembling a little, so he hurries to the jeep. He’s a little bit touch and go at the moment, so he doesn’t want to risk it. Inside, he finally notices the nogitsune is _snickering_.

—

Stiles eyes the shivering Ikari with a frown. At this rate he’s not going to make it. The Nemeton took way too much and has perverted the very basis of his being. He ponders what to do for long minutes before inspiration strikes. It’s a long shot, but maybe, just maybe… He leaves Liam asleep behind the wards.

“You have something that’s not yours and you’re gonna have to give it back.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Noshiko answers dignified, not even fazed by a strange man in her kitchen in the middle of the night. Ikari snarls and she turns startled. “What have you done?!”

“One would think that someone as old as you would have learned at least what a nogitsune really is. Either you’re incredibly self-centered or you are plain stupid.“ He rights himself from where he’s leaning on the door frame and advances. “Now, we can do this two ways: either you give it to me voluntarily or I take it from you by force. I’ll even let you choose which, how does that sound, hmm?”

“Don’t hurt my family,” Noshiko whispers.

“You don’t even have the right to ask that. What you did was inexcusable. Not only you backed from the deal, but you also stole part of him in the process. Betrayer, thief, it would be Ikari’s right to take everything from you for the way you’ve kept him prisoner. You will give what you took back and we’ll see what happens next.”

—

“Now, despite the circumstances, I have to admit this is a beautiful piece of work.” Jackson lets out a string of angry hee-haws and Deaton continues nonplussed. The rest of the pack besides Lydia coincide in that this is the funniest way anyone has called Jackson an ass to date. “If it is what I think it is, you should be thankful that he didn’t do worse.”

“Can you undo it? It’s been hours and if he continues like this I might rip his throat just to not listen to him,” Peter says silkily and Jackson quiets abruptly. Lydia sniffs and places herself beside her boyfriend with a roll of her eyes at the offhand threat.

“It will fade by itself in a couple of hours at most.”

“You better make yourself scarce then, Jackson, or I might succumb to the temptation.” Cora smirks at his hasty retreat and Derek, in Peter’s lap, huffs. Peter pets his dark fur absently and ignores Lydia’s withering look as she follows him out. “So, who is this person that has invaded my territory, hmm?“

“I don’t know about the younger one, but, by the runework I’m seeing, the older is certainly one of the Assembly’s mages.” 

“Assembly?” Scott asks confused and Peter rolls his eyes. He gives a final pat to Derek before going upstairs, still listening to the conversation. There’s only so much teenage stupidity that he can take before having violent urges. Derek follows him silently, as he’s always done ever since he left the hospital scarred to find him trapped in his transformation. Finding out that the reason for the fire had been Laura doing the nasty with Kate Argent of all people, had been a hard pill to swallow. Add that she left, guilt burdened or whatever, taking the alpha power with her and Peter gets the urge to tear something. The only thing that calms him is that Derek refused to abandon him. “Wasn’t it called the Tribunal?”

“They’re two separate organizations,“ Kira answers dutifully. “The Assembly is the magical counterpart of the Hunter’s Tribunal.”

“Like Harry Potter?” Peter sighs exasperated. Why did he think biting Scott was a good idea again? He should have never offered, deathly circumstances or not. He’s not having much luck on that front, to be honest. Isaac’s still scared of his own shadow, Erica and Boyd died by the darach’s hands after betraying their own pack and Jackson is, well, Jackson. Lydia can’t even be turned and Danny refuses the bite.

“The kid called him Stiles, I think?” Isaac says suddenly, as if he has just remembered. Deaton’s heart skips a beat. Peter peeks from above to look at him. Interesting.

“What kind of name is Stiles?“ Cora scrunches her nose.

“Stiles, you say?” Oh, my, Peter smirks. Anything that can make unflappable Alan Deaton pale like that is bound to be interesting. Just for that, he may give him a pass for trespassing and not presenting himself like he should have.

“They’ve answered the call fast, though. That’s good, right?”

“A Nemeton rotting is a serious problem, Scott.” 

“Damn right you are,” a new voice interrupts and all of the present besides Deaton turn to snarl at the intruder, whom doesn’t even have the decency to flinch. “Why the hell didn’t you call sooner?”

“I didn’t see…“

“Are you blind apart from stupid?”

“Jennifer Blake made it impossible to find the Nemeton.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he rebukes implacably.

“I was trying to capture her before she did any damage.”

“Any _more_ damage, you mean. And again, that’s not an answer. Did she make all the phones and computers not work in this damn town, that you couldn’t make a measly call to the Assembly? Or have anybody else do it?”

Peter watches interested as Deaton’s normally imperturbable disposition shatters gradually under the onslaught of a man probably ten years younger. At the very least. It almost makes up for the fact that he’s had an unknown roaming around his territory for who knows how long. Almost.

“Druids cannot intervene. The balance must be…”

“Don’t get me started on the balance,“ he snarls and even Peter’s hard pressed to not react when the boa like thing in his neck unfurls and snarls too. Deaton’s eyes widen like saucers and Peter resists the childish urge to bounce in place gleefully.

“You must be Stiles,” he says as he descends the stairs leisurely, Derek following like a loyal shadow, “the one that’s been trespassing on my territory without my leave. Not very pleased to meet you.”

“Ah, you must be Peter, then, the alpha of the ragtag pack of unruly pups that dare to attack an Assembly mage and whose emissary let the Nemeton rot until it was a ticking time bomb,” he throws back with a wide shark like smile. “The not pleasure is all mine, believe me,” he finishes, mocking.

Peter mirrors the dangerous smile. And then.

“That was so cool!” a not so whispered voice says.

“So cool!” a girl’s voice echoes.

Stiles facepalms. With a sigh, he takes out his phone to make a call. Again.

“Why can’t we chain them again?” he shoots the moment it connects.

“Opps,” both voices chorus.

“ _It never worked with you,_ ” Demetria answers dryly. “ _I take it Malia’s there too?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“ _Do you know what is this, dear?_ ”

“Karma.”

“ _Exactly. What little remains from the me ten years ago is feeling vindicated right now, kiddo._ ”

He hangs up and turns. Malia and Liam take that as a cue to barrel into the loft. Malia even tackles him and he picks her up. She’s small for a twelve year old, so it’s no hardship. He doesn’t bother asking her how she got here, she’s as much a resourceful little brat as he was when he was little. She probably even stole Margot’s credit card. Again.

He raises his eyes to find Alpha Hale’s mocking ones and the man doesn’t need to say it aloud for Stiles to know he’s throwing the unruly pups remark back at him. Stiles narrows his eyes.

—

Stiles spends the week in a flurry of redoing the Nemeton’s rituals, taking care of Malia and Liam, and butting heads with Alpha Hale. The latter shouldn’t be so fun, but it is.

_“Well, well, Stiles,” Peter greets him silkily, “pest one and two,” Malia and Liam bristle. “Here again?”_

_“Of course not! We are just a product of your imagination.“ He waves mocking magic fingers to Peter. Then, he grabs the kids and places on them a misdirection rune at the same time as he activates his own._

_Peter gapes when they disappear before his eyes. Stiles cackles gleefully and pulls the giggling kids to follow him to the Nemeton._

However, it gets to a point where he can’t deny the urge anymore and he looks for his mother. 

He prepares beforehand, because he’s not going to take Liam and Malia in this particular trip. He contacts their school and makes them send their homework. All the children in the covenant attend the same one. They are in the know and pretty lax about attendance so long you submit your work, either in person, by mail or email. When he leaves the rugrats in the motel room, it’s under so many wards that the sun could crash on the earth and not touch them. To make sure that they stay put, he uses the same tactic Demetria used to employ with him: he saddles them with enough homework to last a lifetime and the promise of teaching them something cool if they finish. He already knows they will both do it.

Ikari refuses to be left behind, so he reapplies the misdirection rune on him and moves on.

His first stop is the house. There’s a For Sale sign on the yard. He looks a little bit around before slipping inside, heart in his throat.

He had prepared himself for memories assaulting him, but the house is nothing like he remembered. There has been at least another owner after his mom, because it’s been so completely remodeled that he nearly checks the number again. He sighs. It’s going to be a long morning.

After a little investigating and a lot hacking, he finally finds a trace that leads him to the psychiatric ward of the hospital and to a death certificate. His stomach clenches and he nearly stops there, feeling nauseous. He forces himself to go on.

He has to charm four nurses of the ward before he finally hits the jackpot and one remembers his mom. She recalls when she was admitted after she had a psychotic break and the police was called to intervene. Especially, she remembers how she insisted on having a stack of childish drawings on her room or she wouldn’t calm otherwise, and also how she always talked about her husband and child all the time.

Stiles wants to cry for a moment. Ikari remains silent and nuzzles his neck. Stiles sighs.

“You could leave, you know, you don’t owe me a thing,” he mutters as he pets the silky fur, still a little bit shaken. Ikari perks interestedly.

“ **It’s your right.** ” Stiles startles a bit at the voice. “ **Why would you give away a favor owed to you?** “

“Anything I could want right now (that I can’t get by myself) I wouldn’t ask of you.”

“ **My life is yours.** ”

“Your life is yours.”

“ **Be mine,** ” Ikari states after a few seconds of silence. 

“I’m not a thing, you know,” he answers dryly, not at all surprised at the statement. Kitsune, and especially nogitsune, are possessive by nature.

“ **We would be great together.** ”

“Not to sound conceited, buddy, but I’m pretty great on my own.” Ikari cackles suddenly and Stiles arches a brow.

“ **You’ll do.** ”

“Mmmm.” He looks at the kitsune thoughtfully. Why does he get the feeling that he’s just been tested and passed? “Care to explain that?”

“ **No, not really,** “ he answers with a foxy grin. Stiles snorts and lets it go.

When he returns to the motel room, he’s tackled by Malia and Liam, and puppy-piled without contemplations. His lips twitch at the whines about brains melting, even as his eyes sting.

He knows he won’t actually cry, but this is enough.

—

The first time Stiles ditched school, he was thirteen and Demetria had left to New Orleans to investigate the validity of some information about a vampire coven acting out of line.

He sneaked into a train and various car trunks, conned a policeman and an old lady, and stole from Anita (Margot’s mother) her credit card to pay for a room at a hotel after he conned the staff there too. Bottom line, he was in New Orleans just a day after Demetria arrived there… only to be kidnapped by the same coven she was investigating not even an hour after getting the hotel room. 

To make a long story short, they ended burned to a crisp when one of them tried to bite him. Demetria found him shaking in the middle of the charring remains. She started training him on that very same day. 

To the date, he has only done something like that again twice, and, while the first time was an accidental and out of control defense mechanism, the other where premeditated acts of fury and revenge respectively. 

The lamia that kidnapped Liam amongst other students to gain leverage against the Assembly in a territory dispute ended exiled and with their leaders skinned alive and burned to ashes when Stiles saw the wounds on the kids. He still wears the reinforced fingerless gloves he made with the scales when he wants to make a statement.

As for the quimera that tried to eat Malia, he killed it, sure, but he also tracked the bitches that created it and spent hours with them burning into their skin the why that wasn’t done.

Nothing compares to the fury he’s feeling right now, though. 

The first tracking ritual he employs falls flat and fails completely. The second, a more complex one, has the same effect. Something is blocking him. Peter finds him in the middle of a third one, a mixture of a ritual, a rune array and nogitsune magics.

“I’m busy right now Peter, I’m sure you won’t be too devastated if I ignore you some other time?” he snarks, not even taking his attention from the glowing runes.

Peter manhandles him into standing and snarls in his face, not even caring when his hands start sizzling where they make contact with Stiles’ skin. Ikari hisses threatening. “You’re going to have to make some time.”

It turns out Derek is missing too. Only that stops him from blasting the man into itsy bitsy pieces. He likes Peter, he really does, but anyone that gets in his way of getting Malia and Liam back will be permanently removed.

Third time’s a charm, indeed. 

The compass guides them to a mental institution called Eichen House. He marches right into it, pushing an orderly to the side forcefully. On their way downstairs, he finds Deaton accompanied by another woman. He recognizes her magic print immediately. Peter snarls and Stiles narrows his eyes.

He gets the kids and Derek back and the whole story from a cowering Deaton and Marin Morrel. That day Eichen House, along with its corrupt druids, dread doctors, abusive orderlies and horrific experiments, get burned to the ground.

It leaves a sour taste in his mouth that, out of the fifty-two inmates there, none has been left untouched by the doctors or not corrupted beyond belief or not mad out of their minds.

—

“You bastard!“ Stiles snarls as he marches into Peter’s loft. “What did you do?”

“Kids,” Peter drawls not taking his eyes from the text he’s studying, “meet our new emissary.”

“I’m not your new anything!”

“The Assembly begs to differ.” 

“The Assembly can go fuck themselves!”

“You did cost me my emissary, I think it’s only fair.“ 

“Then thinking is obviously not your thing.” Malia and Liam approach the very entertained pack to introduce themselves. “No, what are you doing? We’re not staying!”

“But Demetria already enrolled us at school,” Liam protests.

Stiles takes out his phone.“Is this some kind of secret plot?” 

“ _You did cost the man his emissary, Stiles._ ”

“He was as close to be a darach as he could be without _actually_ being a darach!”

“ _I know, kiddo, but you did burn seventy-something people to the ground in one go, justified or not. That’s bound to scare stupid shits quite a bit. The Tribunal went to the throat and those geezers in the Assembly jumped at the opportunity to reign you in. You should thank Alpha Hale, kiddo. Without his intervention I don’t know what would have happened._ “ 

Stiles aims a disgruntled glare at the smug man. He crosses the room until he can throw himself at the chair beside him and steals the text with a grunt. “Give me that. Trapped shifters? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I thought you liked it that way, Derek.” 

“Uh, guys?”

“Then thinking is obviously not your thing,” Peter throws back at him and Stiles narrows his eyes dangerously. 

“Guys?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I see something like that, you ignorant bastard!“

“Hellooooo???”

“WHAT,” they both snarl and Danny raises both eyebrows. 

“The thing at the abandoned train depot you asked us to investigate? It’s a quimera. By the police reports, I think it’s been eating homeless people.”

When Peter swears and gets up to leave, Stiles snickers mockingly. “Have fun, oh alpha mine!”

The man turns around, grabs his wrist and pulls. “You’re coming with me, oh my emissary.”

Stiles flails. 

**Author's Note:**

> Some feedback, please?


End file.
